In celebration of the the tenth anniversary of the release of Casino Royale —now available to stream on Showtime and Showtime Anytime— we’re presenting a three-part series as to why it is the best film in the entire James Bond canon. Yesterday, Nick Rheinwald-Jones explained how the surprisingly restrained opening credit sequence of Casino Royale set the tone for the entire film in Part 1. Today is Part 2, where we make the case that the landmark parkour sequence is the film’s mic-drop moment. Tomorrow, in Part 3, we’ll talk about the love story that unfolds between James and Vesper that just so happens to be the emotional high point of the entire 007 franchise.

Where were we? Oh yes. Right here.

The re-contextualized 007 trademark delivers Casino Royale‘s first (literal) splash of color, taking us into another of the franchise’s most iconic elements: the opening credits. These too are a departure from tradition, ditching the familiar mixed-media approach for a sequence that is almost entirely 2D-animated. It’s slicker and flashier than many of its predecessors, but its influences predate even Dr. No, with nods to the first-edition cover art of the 1953 Casino Royale novel. And I think it only plays as a spoiler in retrospect, but wow, how’s this for a big fat hint about a certain someone’s two-faced nature?

As far as the song goes, I know I’m in the minority on this but I think “You Know My Name” is great. What I love most about it is the ambiguity of its narrator. Many of the previous Bond title tunes were odes to the films’ villains, and you can certainly read “You Know My Name” as another in that tradition. On the other hand, the title of the song and the bravado of the lyrics make it equally possible that it’s from the point of view of 007 himself. Chris Cornell seems to be in the latter camp, and since he co-wrote and performed the thing, I guess there’s good cause to believe him…

…except, I don’t. I think the narrator is M., and the lyrics are warning Bond about the dangers of an unchecked ego. Plus, the title alludes to a soon-to-be-revealed plot point: Daniel Craig’s version of Bond may be the first one sneaky enough to uncover M.’s real name — and definitely the first to break into her house. (That scene, incidentally, is another good example of the nano-scale needles this movie is required to thread. Having Judi Dench return as M. for a film that’s meant to be a prequel doesn’t make a lick of sense continuity-wise, but the rapport that she and Craig develop within their first few seconds onscreen together is so uniquely effective that it wipes the slate clean.)

Before that encounter plays out, however, the filmmakers are wise enough to throw some red meat on the table. Which means, oh yes, it’s time to talk about this.

There’s plenty of rollicking action in Casino Royale, but the parkour chase is the movie’s mic-drop moment, the definitive announcement that the 007 franchise will no longer have its milkshake slurped by James Cameron or Tom Cruise or anyone else. It is simply one of the most perfectly executed action set pieces in motion picture history, buoyed greatly by the casting of parkour co-inventor Sebastian Foucan as the ridiculously agile bombmaker. But here’s the kicker —and let’s shout this to the rooftops so every aspiring screenwriter hears it— it’s a character scene. This iteration of Bond, we’re learning, is an indefatigable brute who will happily destroy the world around him (and possibly his own body) in pursuit of a single target — and when all else fails, he’ll just kill the poor sap, even though doing so goes against his stated mission. He later passes the decision off as noble (“I thought one less bombmaker in the world would be a good thing”), except we know that’s a cop-out; he just can’t stand losing… and it’s only a matter of time before that flaw catches up with him in a big way.

But the fact that this 007 is more flawed and nuanced than his predecessors doesn’t mean he can’t have any fun, and the next chunk of the film seems determined to hit pretty much every Bond-film pleasure center imaginable. James books himself a ridiculous suite at a five-star beach resort. He plays high-stakes poker against criminal contractor (and generally shitty guy) Alex Dimitrios, beats him with pocket aces, and wins his damn car. And then? He takes the car to pick up Dimitrios’s wife Solange and literally charms the pants off her. Any of these scenes could have been ripped straight from one of the Sean Connery movies, but this particular moment belongs to Craig’s Bond alone:

It’s a nice piece of karmic justice, but more than that, it’s evidence that this version of 007 doesn’t exactly feel at home among the wealthy elite — even if he enjoys wearing that mask. At heart he’s a scrappy kid with an expense account and a PPK, and that’s a more enjoyable hero to follow than the stiff-upper-lipped gentleman with a PhD in cognac-ology.

Of course, it won’t be long before all the fun and wish-fulfillment of this sequence gets turned on its head: Bond will find a woman who plays him just as easily as he played Solange; he will make a big, cocky bet that fails miserably; and his love affair with sleek Aston Martins will terminate in a car wreck so spectacular that it now sits in the Guinness Book. (Seriously.) And that long, downward spiral wouldn’t be possible without Casino Royale‘s secret weapon, a supporting character who’s easily memorable enough to carry the second half of the movie. We’ll tackle that tomorrow, but in the meantime, why not fix yourself a drink?

Tomorrow, in Part 3: The genuine love story that unfolds between James and Vesper is absolutely the emotional high point not only of Casino Royale, but of the entire 007 franchise.